Before You Know It
by Masked-Flame
Summary: A boy wanders the streets; life isn't easy. He's cold, he's hungry, he's alone, and he's a freak. One particularly cold Winter's day, the boy meets a hyper redhead that seems bent on befriending him. Little by little, the boy begins to trust the redhead, spending more and more time with him. Can the boy help the lonely child, or will he betray his trust? Eventually Laven.
1. Hey!

**You know all those times you get bored in school? Well, this is the product of my boredom. And no, this won't affect the update speed of my other story. Depending on the feedback I get for this, I have a fairly high chance of continuing this XD**

"Hey! You street rat! Get your grimy hands back over here!"

"Stop that kid!"

Two shop owners chased a scrawny runt of a child through streets and stalls, stopping only seconds to collectively decide which direction the boy had run in. They vigorously pursued the dirtied youth until he seemingly disappeared behind a snow covered stall. The two adults dashed around the corner, but no sign of the young bare-footed bandit could be found. The pair loudly cursed in frustration and begrudgingly returned to their own shop, feet dragging all the way. If they had stayed behind any longer, they would have undoubtedly noticed the dirty brown hair slowly rising out from under a card board box in the back of the alleyway.

The child poked his head over the box and hesitantly looked around him, eyeing every joyous person that walked past, laughing and buying presents for their loved ones. Graceful snowflakes fluttered down from the whisked gray clouds that loomed over them, promising harsher snow fall to come, but giving off the perfect atmosphere for the merry holiday season. Children ran past their parents, their warmly gloved hands excitedly grabbing and pointing at the new and fun festivities that lay in every vendors' stall. Lovers, friends, families, children, but no angry store workers.

The small boy let out a slightly shaken breath causing a small cloud of breath to become visible in the chilled December air, and sunk onto the cold, snow-covered ground of the gap between buildings that he'd taken refuge behind. Using a small, nearly frostbitten right hand, the young child reached into his dirtied and tattered coat and hungrily drew out the molded remnants of a once full loaf of bread. To the casual by-standard, it didn't look like much, in fact, it looked like absolute garbage, but to the boy, he had believed it to be a true Christmas miracle when he had spotted the bread in the bakers' trash bin. That is until he was caught and the owners chased him, attempting to gain back the soiled bits of sustenance.

He didn't get it. Why did those adults need the food when it was in the trash? They weren't going to eat it. Why couldn't they just give him a single piece? It wasn't fair… Other kids got things…

A twinge of pain in his other arm reminded him just why it would never be fair for him. Just why he could never quite be happy, or like any other normal child. He frowned as he looked down at his left arm. It had been shaking for a quite some time and he had really hoped it wasn't injured again; it was such a pain to fix. Not that he could afford treatment anyways…

The boy shoved the last crumbs of the expired bread past his chapped lips and shrugged his left arm out of the limp jacket that hung off his lithe frame. He had found it in another alley, not six days earlier, and he almost felt bad for whatever person left it there. _Almost._

He slipped the jacket over his left arm and buttoned it over, hiding the damnable limb from any passer-by's judging view. The small brown-haired boy looked up and noticed that the snow had indeed begun to thicken and the passageway he had took temporary residence in had nothing overhead to shield his frail body from the frozen droplets that threatened him to hypothermia. The younger coughed, leaving him to grimace. Time to find shelter for the night.

When he stood up, he noticed that the snow underneath him had melted and soaked his thin pants through. Not. Good. At this rate, he'd get sick, which was practically a death sentence when you're a street rat.

The poor boy didn't know where he was going to sleep that night. Every night it changed, every night it was something different and new. Though he usually preferred to stick near places that provided cover and at least a minute amount of warmth, whether it be a box on the street, or a bench in front of a warm store, or sometimes even in a tall tree within a park. Unfortunately, the last time he had slept within the branches of a tree, he had fallen out when he rolled in his sleep, and ended up with a broken leg. He hardly survived that experience since he couldn't run to get food, or to borrow –pickpocket- money from oblivious people. Luckily it had been during the summer time and fruit could be found in a few of the many trees he had stayed by. Never again did he sleep in a tree after that though…

That was when he remembered that one particular building he had ran past earlier on his mad dash from the selfish bakers. There had been a distinctive white, wooden cross piercing the sky on top of the roof. That could only mean one thing: safe.

The rather uneducated boy couldn't quite name just what those strange buildings were, only that every time he had spotted the occasional cross-bearing building, it meant safe, warm, shelter. He hadn't entered one in a long time because of the fact that he had just wandered into to this foreign town, but he remembered well that soft and comforting atmosphere that engulfed him when he once entered one all those months ago.

A small smile uncharacteristically graced his shaking lips as he yearned to seek out that tranquil building. He took slow, shaky steps out onto the street and out of the alley he had hid in, grimacing as his bare feet stepped over icy pebbles and the occasional shard of jagged, broken glass bottles. He had long ago outgrown his old worn shoes and he was now thankful that his feet had already gone numb for the most part, for it dulled down the pain some.

When he stepped back out into the main street, his youthful gray eyes absorbed everything, and he sighed. Families walked past him, but instead of ignoring him as he had always silently prayed they would. They glared at him. Glared because he was a poor street rat, glared because he was a little boy with no money, glared because he was alone, and glared because he was a freak. A dirty, unwanted, cold, freak.

The shivering boy set out in a slow saunter, keeping a weather eye out in case he spotted a wooden cross sticking over anything, but it was proving to be quite difficult as he had always been awful with directions of any sort. The wind blew white icy flakes into his tired eyes and he raised his uncovered arm to shield his face from the wind that threatened to shove cold snow down his mouth and into his eyes.

The street and sky were now an interchangeable blur of gray and white, snow mixing every people, streets, and buildings in one giant cloud of dangerous white. By now, the crowds of merry shoppers had begun to quickly dissipate, seeking the warmth of their stone fireplaces in their cozy housed. None of them dared look at the lone boy on the pavement, standing nearly still with clothes hardly fit for winter weather, nobody to accompany him, and nowhere for him to go. The crowds left the child behind, leaving him with only the few vendors that stayed behind in the flurry of snow, trying to pack up early for the night.

Unable to see, and not knowing where to go even if he could, the lonely boy made one random turn down yet another road and that was when he saw it; the tall building with a large cross on top of the pointed roof. Forgetting about his unwanted arm, his cold feet, his loneliness, and his hunger, the tiny figure ran head first into the large front doors of the alien building, only bothering to stop once he was completely inside and had closed the heavy, ornate doors.

Once the warmth and stillness of the air hit him, only then did he realize just how bloody_ freezing _he was. Without caring to fully examine his whereabouts, or even who was in there, the shivering boy ran into one of the long, white pews located near the very back but near the wall, slightly concealed by the shadows cast by the intricate lighting and huddled in a little boy, clinging to what minuscule amount of body heat he had managed to conserve.

Finally, once his teeth had stopped chattering, and almost the entirety of his right leg had gone numb, the boy peeked his eyes over the pew in front of him, allowing himself to fully enjoy the feeling of contentment. His cautious eyes picked up on every detail, still keeping an eye out in case Lady Fortune decided to abandon the boy and people would condemn him. Again.

The detailed ceiling was tall, and beautiful paintings decorated the surface, telling ancient stories and glorious battles. There were angel statues placed in the front of the room, some of them seemed to be at war, with their stone features frozen in an eternal battle cry. Scattered people sat randomly distributed out on the many other remaining benches, most of them had their heads bowed. What was that called again? Praying? The curious boy narrowed his eyes in slight confusion; why were all those people praying? What did it do? Wasn't it to God or something or other? The boy hardly believed in such forces as 'God', as he figured that nothing that could be labeled as 'fair and just' would ever allow only a small innocent kid like himself to go through life as he did. Just where was the justice in condemning a mere child? Of creating him as a deformed freak?

The boy gave in an indifferent huff; the atmosphere of the building was soothing, and the air was warm, but it seemed to be a place that ostensibly mocked him and his misfortune. He glared at his covered left arm, blaming it for all of his issues, which he had reason to, seeing as it practically was the cause for most of his pain.

Frustration boiled inside the small child. He had finally found a nice place, and yet it still reminded him of what he was; a bothersome freak that was hated by God himself. His right arm fisted and pulled at his filthy hair, as if it would make things better or maybe just take away his painful memories.

In the midst of his tantrum of sorts, he hadn't noticed someone walk up to his pew. When the boy continued to pull out his hairs, the stranger walked up to him and shook his shoulders, not even minding the filth or condition of his clothes. The street rat froze at the contact, avoiding the effort to make eye contact with whoever had touched him. He suddenly decided that he would believe in God and he prayed with all his might that he wouldn't get beaten too badly.

"Hey, kiddo. You alright there?"

So it was a kid… The high pitched voice could only be that of a child's and from the homeless boy's knowledge after observing families for years on the street, he could guess that the voice almost certainly belonged to a boy. Daring to look up, he noticed that it was in fact a boy, a boy with impossibly red, disheveled hair and surprisingly enough, a black eye patch over his right eye. But, even next to the red hair, and the fabric that concealed a supposed eye, the most shocking thing that even boggled the scrawny runt's mind, was the look of genuine concern that was etched over the redheads face. Why was he worried? Surely it wasn't for his sake. No one would care about him in a million years.

"Hey~! Short stuff! I asked if you were okay? You mute or somethin', cause that'd be totally awesome! Well, I guess it'd be kinda sad, cause… ya know, bein' mute an' all. But I mean, total sob story right?! An' everyone knows that girls always dig a good sob story! My friend told me that! That's why I got this eye patch on! Isn't it cool?! Chicks dig it! The old Panda says I'm 'too young' to start carin' 'bout girls and all, but I mean, he's a Panda, so what does he know?! An' I alw-" The boy's rant was cut short as a lady in a modest dress near the front had calmly shushed the raucous redhead child. The loud boy scratched the back of his head in visible modesty, and he chuckled.

"Heh… Oops, I guess the old Panda was right; I really do talk a little too much don' I?" A goofy grin was now plastered to his face. Said grin soon after slipped off his features when he noticed that the victim of his pointless, albeit excited speech, hadn't moved an inch, and he seemed to be shaking. This is just about when the redheaded boy noticed the conditions of the boy's clothes.

"No wonder you're freezin'! You're dressed like you haven't got any other clothes at home! Think I would've noticed sooner, since I'm a bookman-trainee an' all, but… Oh well! Your parent's know you're freezing your ass- sorry, butt, off out here? I mean, aren't they all worried 'n stuff?"

By now the scrawny brunette boy was glaring heavily at the opposing redhead. He was making fun of him, he just knew it.

When the brown haired boy lifted his head to glare, the redhead froze. His trained eye took in and memorized every flawless detail on the boy before him. Under the dirt-caked skin, peaks of pale complexion could be seen, as well as shaking rosy lips, and gorgeous silver eyes with specks of blue splashed near the pupil. All in all, the boy was breathtaking.

"Woah… You're adorable." The redhead breathed.

Adorable? He may not be educated, and he may be entirely socially inept, but he was pretty sure that being called 'adorable' when you were a male, was a serious threat to your masculinity. And even street rats had certain lines that couldn't be crossed. Pride was this boy's.

Still refusing to speak, the insulted boy scooted over to the where the redhead now sat, and raised his good arm, only to snap it down on the redhead's cheek. It hardly broke skin, and it was very weak under the poor conditions the boy had been living under. Try only eating one bit of moldy bread for four days, see how strong your punch would be.

Much to the angry boy's chagrin, the redhead didn't even seem remotely fazed by the uncalled for act of violence; instead he just grabbed the little boy's arm and pulled him into a hug. The small boy froze, terrified and confused, but the older boy didn't release him from the embrace. Eventually, he pulled back, his hands still keeping the boy from escaping, and he ruffled the knotted oily mess of brown hair.

"Hey, come on now. It's a good thing to be called adorable! Ya make tons of friends that way!" The poor boy was finally released from the elder's surprisingly strong grip and he then ran to the other side of the long pew, trying to get out of range from any other possible attacks from this strange eye-patched boy.

In the silence that had descended between the two boys, neither of them dared to move just yet. They had both remained fairly quiet, until a short, old man with an unkempt pony tail ran over to their pew, and jumped, aiming a kick straight for the happy child's unprotected head, effectively knocking said child over.

"Dang it, Panda! What did I do this time?!" He whined, rubbing the forming bump on the back of his head.

"You know what you did, junior! Stop ditching out on your studies! Someday you are going to have to do some field work and you are most certainly not prepared for it yet! Now get back to work!"

The brown haired street rat was now slowly raising to a stand, looking down at his redheaded acquaintance, his silver eyes going slightly wide from the display that had just occurred before him. As much as he hated to admit it, the other boy had begun to grow on him in the few minutes he had known him, and it did slightly bother him to see the boy kicked to the ground. The redhead returned the curious gaze, and smiled, jumping up and lightly clapping the scared boy on his shoulder.

"Panda's here so I gotta go now… But, ya know what? I like you! Let's be friends! The names Lavi! Nice to meet'cha!"

**Review please :) **


	2. Barriers

**Hello all! I enjoy writing this story, so I'm just gonna continue it, even if y'all don't like it XD **

It was so blissfully warm.

The young boy nuzzled his cheek to the source of this warmth and pulled it closer, soaking in as much of the euphoric heat as he could. Wait… Warm? Meaning not cold? But he always woke up cold. Why wasn't he cold? And what exactly was it that he was nestling into?

Jolting up from his slightly uncomfortable position that he had been lying in on the white pew, a flood of memories invaded his sleep-clouded mind; stolen bread, snow, cross building, praying, red haired boy. Did that mean that he…? He fell asleep in that strange building? Well, at least they hadn't kicked him out. Or maybe they just hadn't spotted him; after all, he was sitting in a shadow-lapsed corner.

Purple intruded the bottom corner of his eyesight and he looked down to find a thick, warm blanket with light purple flowers decorating it, covering his still-filthy body. He concluded that the alien piece of fabric was that heavenly warmth he had obliviously enjoyed while he had been sleeping. Among the many oncoming questions that formulated themselves one after another in his over-active mind, one of the most prominent of them was; who had left him with a blanket?

Yes, it may have been just a regular old, albeit warm, blanket, that anybody would probably have multiple of stored away in their own homes, but for a boy who had absolutely no one to rely on and nothing to call his own, it was a rather perplexing matter to him. He certainly didn't remember placing a blanket on himself, and he knew that nobody else would ever bother to help out a kid like him. So who?

As if on a cue, a long draw-out yawn sounded beside him. Looking over to the source of the noise, the small child was completely shocked to fine the redheaded boy from the previous day, slowly waking up from a visibly restless sleep. At least he had assumed it to be the same boy from earlier, judging by the bright red hair, but his face was obscured by a book that he had probably been reading before he fell asleep with it over his face.

No. No way. Why on earth was this insane kid back? Did he put the blanket on him? Was he going to hurt him? Tease him even? Just because he hadn't teased the homeless child the day before, didn't mean that he wouldn't today. People had used this tactic on him before; tried to act nice and friendly, only to turn around and hurt him once adequate trust had been gained. It proved very effective to leave the most amount of damage to the freakish boy. It was no wonder why he had a difficult time talking to people, much less trust them anymore. If you open up to people, they can hurt you, but if you close yourself off, then you're safe. The boy lived by this.

The redhead's one visible emerald eye was dazed and still unfocused from his nap, until he looked at the boy next to him who seemed to be lost in deep, contemplative thought. Suddenly, his green eye sparkled with mischievousness as he sprang up and tackled the boy in a giant hug. Of course, only through his own eyes was it a giant hug, but through the eyes of the poor child who was launched at, he had seen someone with their arms extended, coming towards him, and pinning him to the wooden bench. He tightly clenched his eyes shut, bracing himself for the worst. But it never came.

He slowly opened his scared eyes, trying to get an idea of just what was going on. Only when he saw what was happening, he was just as confused as before. There was the boy, his arms wrapped around him, but instead of an attack, with harsh glaring eyes, he was just smiling. His only seeing eye was squeezed shut, as he ruffled the boy's brown hair once again. The victim of this hug, was none too amused by this, and silently pleaded that it wouldn't become a habit.

Hold on- a habit? But, habits were reoccurring quirks that one gained after a period a time… Was his own mind already presuming that he would be spending more time with this red haired bundle of energy in the future? He didn't quite know what to think of this. He had already established that he would only end up getting hurt by this rambunctious kid; no way would he open up enough to actually form habits and routines with him.

Unfortunately, as steeled as his will now was, the other boy was still attached to him like a leech. A leech that was slowly sucking away the already dwindled patience of the smaller, lowly boy. His mind was at somewhat of a standstill. Should he be annoyed, angry, or scared? He couldn't quite decide on just one of those, so he settled on being all three. The captured boy vainly struggled within the redhead's entrapping arms, only succeeding in making the elder laugh at his weak attempts to gain sweet, sweet freedom. After his laughing fit had calmed down partially, the elder hung on for about ten more seconds (ten seconds longer than the younger boy would have liked), and finally released the squirming boy.

"Mornin'!" The boy loudly whispered, remembering to keep his voice slightly lowered in the still building.

When he looked at his brown haired 'friend', he noticed that he was still lying down and trembling softly, his grey eyes wide open in withdrawn fear.

"Jeez! Ya don't need to be so panicked 'round me! I'm gonna be your best friend in no time! Just you wait!" His wide green eye looked down at the still slightly shaken boy who was moving to get up into a sitting position.

The redheaded child practically bounced up and down on the long bench, waiting for the quiet boy to greet him or smile or _something._ All he got was another weak glare from the petite boy, and then a nod from the bunched up blanket, then back to him. Was it a thank you? He assumed so.

"You're welcome, little guy! I came back after I studied for an hour or so, thinkin' that maybe I'd get to see my new buddy again, but I didn't actually expect to still find ya sleeping here! You were shakin' pretty bad so I figured I should run back to Panda and get a old blanket for ya! When I came back you started cryin' in your sleep a lot so I figured I could read ya a story to calm ya down," he paused to scratch his head, "I guess I sorta ended up fallin' asleep too." The boy finished after holding strong to his reputation of speaking abnormally long trains of slang-filled talk.

As for the younger child, his eyes widened once the information fully set in. This boy had actually retrieved a blanket for him. Not only that, but he'd also read to him after he'd had another sleep-depriving nightmare. These frightening dreams were fairly frequent occurrences, happening more and more now that he could more accurately access his seemingly hopeless living situation. The dreams usually focused on him being abandoned, time and time again. It wasn't that he wasn't used to this when he was conscious, but, as he had soon figured out, his mind was less susceptible to being able to ignore the pain of abandonment while he was sleeping and out of his rational mind's control. As he was growing more knowledgeable about the fate he was sure to receive near down his life, his nightmares grew worse and worse.

And yet, here was this boy who was practically a complete stranger, and he was _helping_ him? Apparently the redheaded boy had decided to play friendly with him for a little while longer.

The small brown haired youth then busied himself with folding the wrinkled blanket, which was proving to be quite a challenging feat considering he could only use his right arm as his other arm was still safely covered by the dilapidated coat he still wore. After the redhead gleefully watched the small kid struggle for a few short and cruel minutes, he decided to help him out. He gave a large, mocking grin and then grabbed two corners of the blanket and then brought them up to the younger boy's hand, effectively folding the blanket in half. From there on the brown haired boy pushed the elder away while folding the rest of the blanket.

He didn't like the boy with the eye patch. He was scared of him. He was happy and usually laughing, but obviously strong enough to pin him down. And if his past experiences were anything to go by, this hyper stranger would soon turn around and hurt him, leaving not only scars, but also leaving his life. The street rat didn't want that. Not again. So he had decided to not open himself up to the redhead.

Yet… he was being so nice to him… He brought him a blanket… He keeps smiling… Deep down, the small boy knew that it had to have been some form of charming manipulation, a way for the elder to snake into his heart and then rip out the most feeling he could, but the brown haired child couldn't help but feel like he owed the elder something.

He bowed his head, his eyes trained on the wooden floor and brown hair concealing his shy face from the other boy. With his single arm, he reached into his hole-infested pocket and retrieved one single coin. The only thing he'd ever had to call his own. Something he'd never stolen or 'borrowed' from someone. A nice old man had found him one day and actually given him the coin, claiming solely that it would bring good luck and fortune to the boy. It was his prized possession. And he set it on the neat blanket and pushed them down the long pew, offering both to the elder boy.

"What's this? You're acting like I just saved your life or something! And eh? That a coin? Kid, ya shouldn't be spending your parents' money like that. Speaking of your parents, do they know you would be out this long? I mean, they're probably worried sick 'bout ya!" Oblivious of the droop in the small boy's posture and the sadness that had overwhelmed his gray eyes; the redhead nabbed the blanket and pocketed the coin.

"Hey kid? Mind if I ask ya something?" The boy looked up, meeting the other child's bright green eye.

"So I was jus' wondeing why it is that you don' talk. I mean, I know you're not mute, cause I heard you whimper when you were cryin' last night." The boy finished as though he had just made some ultimate discovery. The young boy froze. He didn't want to talk to him. He didn't want to talk to anyone. Why was this kid so hell bent on making a conversation?

It was silent, and he most likely realized the young boy before him wouldn't answer any time soon so he turned around, his back facing the other.

Is he leaving? Will he leave him alone? As much as he told himself that he wanted this, he couldn't help but feel a small amount of remorse wriggle into his heart. Maybe he had been too rude to him. Maybe he should have given him something more than his only possession, which was flimsy at best. It was too late for that now though, as the redheaded boy's back seemed to get further and further away… only to turn right back around with a brown bag in his hand.

"Hey! Okay so I figured since ya didn't want to talk an' all, you could jus' write it! Here!" he threw his slender hand into the lumpy bag, and pulled out a red notebook as well as a pen for the boy to use.

But the uneducated child just stared at it. Not even a small movement that could have hinted progression to pick up the writing material. With a heavy sigh, the redhead looked up and noticed, much to his shock, the light tint of pink that dusted the brown haired boy's cheeks. He was embarrassed about writing? But why? Suddenly, it clicked in his mind. Well, he _was_ young, but he hadn't thought that he had looked that young.

"So… You can't write can you." It wasn't a question.

"Can you read then?" This time the young boy offered a small shake of his brown hair.

"Your mother taught ya yet?" The small boy stopped moving his head all together and averted his eyes, once again watching the ground. He stiffly shook his head again.

This didn't go unnoticed by the redheaded child either. Suddenly, as though a light bulb had been turned on in a dark and dusty room, it all made sense. The reason why the boy was alone, the reason he was filthy, why he was practically skin and bones, why he couldn't read or write, and why he wouldn't talk or trust nearly anyone.

"You're homeless."

The small boy looked up at him with angry, glaring eyes, but now the elder child could pick out the heavy sorrow laced into his every facial feature. This boy's whole being personified sadness and grief. From the way his brown hair hung limp in front of his distant gray eyes, to the way his feet lay bruised, battered, frozen, and forgotten beneath him. Now that he had finally reached this realization, he found it seemingly impossible for him to not notice this boy's condition. His entire presence practically resonated poor and unfortunate.

Under his new found discovery, the redheaded child suddenly felt bad. Exceedingly bad. He had… on multiple occasions… jokingly accused the boy of many of the things that he really was… For the first thing, he had joked that the boy was mute, and as he may have not been mute, he certainly didn't talk either. He had also claimed that the small child looked like he hadn't had any other clothes at home… well, assuming the child had no home, he could guess that he didn't have clothes either… And last while certainly least, he had asked several times already about the child's parents… which probably didn't even exist…

"I'm…Sorry…" Now it was the older boy's turn to bow his head. He hardly ever apologized, seeing it as an unmanly form of defeat. He always went down kicking, even if he knew one-hundred percent that he was wrong.

The gray-eyed boy was shocked. This kid…he apologized? For what? For knowing that he was a homeless kid? Big whoop. He had figured that much was obvious if his appearance was anything to be judged by. But the thing that had bothered him was, if this boy really was trying to get through his protective wall to harm him, then just why was he apologizing? Surely he would feel no remorse for anything he had done to him. To insult a freak was like insulting thin air. Surely no one would feel remorse for mocking empty space. Surely they wouldn't apologize to nothingness. And yet, here the redhead child was, apologizing to him. He curiously tilted his head towards the other, trying to get his question past without using words.

Apparently the boy was good at reading him now, for he replied without any hesitation, "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were… ya know… homeless… I guess that explains why you're sleepin' in a church; they're pretty cool 'bout letting people stay as long as they don't disrupt anything… Oh. I guess you want this back," he pulled out the coin he had been given earlier, offering it back to the small boy. "You need it way more than I do." Before he could even fully release the old coin back into the boy's smaller hand, the brown haired boy roughly pushed the redhead's arm back, effectively keeping the coin in his grasp.

He had given him that coin as a token of his gratitude. It was the only thing he had to give, and the only gift anyone would ever receive from him. This kid would keep it no matter what he felt about it. So the dirty child glared until the other boy took the not-so-subtle hint and shoved the dirtied coin back into his pocket.

"Ya want me to keep it? I would refuse, but seeing as I now have something to remember you as, I don' wanna! Hey, speaking of which, what's your name? Unless you want me to keep callin' you 'short stack', or 'kiddo'. Oh! I could even call you 'beansprout!' cause you're so pale and small! I'd bet you'd taste sweet too-" the smaller child's short fuse of self-control had now been fully burnt up, and he then launched himself at the elder, arm flailing as he attempted to shut the teasing boy up.

As they had both already been aware of, the elder proved to be considerably stronger, no matter how feisty the short boy had proved to be, and he had quickly gained the upper hand in their short tangle of arms. Needless to say, the redhead ended up with his arms yet again wrapped around a silently brooding silver eyed boy. He grinned in his victory.

"So! Ya gonna tell me your name or not?" He whispered excitedly next to the grumpy child.

All he received was an indignant huff and then silence that filled the air. He slowly looked over to see the boy with not only the ever-present sadness, but now his trained eye could pick out the look of suppressed longing. It dulled his eyes making them seem less silvery and more like a flat gray, as he seemed to be in a different place, at a different time. The small boy sadly shook his brown locks of hair and he allowed himself to look up into the green eye that bore into him.

"Do you have a name?" It seemed ridiculous to the taller child. Even homeless people had names! Surely this boy had one as well. As if to confirm his internal rationalizing, the brown haired boy quickly nodded his head.

Okay… so he did have a name…

The small boy was in quite the internal turmoil himself about now. How did he get to telling this wild stranger all of this? He hadn't been involved with people for a very long time, so why now? Why was this new person entering his life now? And now, here he was, 'telling' the boy that he hadn't any parents and even going so far as to give him his lucky coin. His only possession! Why? Why, why, why?

Whether or not he thought it to be right, he found himself actually wanting the boy sitting next to him to know his name. Or rather his title, as it wasn't quite fit to be his name… But how to tell… he couldn't speak, that was out of the question. But he couldn't write either.

Suddenly, a brilliant idea struck his mind. He quickly pointed at the elder boy's hair. Pulling it down and tugging it, he even succeeded in ripping a few strands out.

"Ow, ow! Hey stop it, that hurts!" The redhead shouted earning multiple shushes throughout the wide room.

"What are ya doin? Tryin' to bald me or something? I just asked what your name was!" Oh… So that was it. The younger was playing a game wasn't he?

The young boy gave up on that particular tactic and sighed. At the elder seemed to get what he was doing now. He opened his palm and the red hairs fluttered to the floor, leaving the previous owner of said hairs to grieve at their passing.

It wasn't that hard was it? What he was trying to accomplish that is. Gesturing at things until the older boy knew his title. He could do it right? He could only pray it wouldn't be too frustrating. He tried again, pointing at the now fallen strands of red hairs against the brown wooden floor.

"Um, floor? Your name's floor?" The confused child asked, now questioning the sanity of the strange boy. Said strange boy sighed again. It seemed this would take a while.

The small frustrated boy harshly pointed to himself, as the redhead responded, translating. "I'm…" he trailed off as he was yet again unsure of what the younger was fruitlessly attempting to get across by his antics. All he was doing now was pointing at the rubicund notebook that he had earlier pulled out for him to write in.

"You're named notebook?" the silver eyed kid tapped on the notebook, trying to get his message through the dense of head of the other boy.

When he glared and threw down the notebook on the bench, causing a few heads to turn towards their direction, the redhead raised his hands as if in surrender. "Look kid, I'm sorry, but I really don't understand what you're trying to say." He bent down low to the boy's small, pale ear, looking as though he was about to convey upon him some great secret, "I lost my psychic ability to read minds last week."

The boy glared and pushed the elder away, entirely non-amused by his jokes. He gathered up the hairs and the notebook then pushed them in front of his companion, attempting to get it through this time around. When the boy with the eye patch just shook his head again, the dirty boy tried gesturing at one item, them towards the next. It still wasn't working. He clenched his right hand in a tight fist.

He hated this. He hated how much he was getting riled up over this. He knew, he _knew_ that he would just get hurt from this, yet here he was, acting like an incompetent fool while trying to have an absolute stranger guess his title. It would be almost pitiful, that is if anyone would even dare pity someone like him. He was frustrated at the situation. What made him want for the boy to know his name? Was it because no one had known his name in years, or was it merely because he didn't want to be called 'short stack' again, which, he admitted, didn't sound amusing in the slightest. The saddest part of all of this, the part the made the small boy cringe, was the reason why he had been named what he had. It wasn't the name that parents would name their perfect child, no, it was name that labeled him for what he was: different. Different and strange and freakish.y

He relaxed his clenched arm and in a blur of white and brown, the thin coat flung off of the boy's boney shoulders, and then onto the elder boy's head. When the elder boy removed the filthy article of clothing off of his face, he froze.

"Oh." He replied, looking at the boy's red, raw, and flaking left arm. It was a deformity that belonged straight where it came from; Satin's domain in the Rings of Hell itself.

"Your name's Red."

**I couldn't help but write a big 'Left arm reveal' scene XD**

**Review Please :3**


	3. Detestable

***cough cough* h-heeeyy guys…. H-how's it goin'?... DON'T KILL ME! I have fairly good excuses for not updating in so long… um… yeah… Sorry! BUT! Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! Keep it up! *hint hint* **

Shame. Nothing but pure and honest shame wiped the young brunette's mind as he lowered his gaze.

He wasn't sure what the other boy's reaction would be, in fact, he had entirely neglected to even consider what the outcome of his revealing would bring. But, now that he was thinking about it, would he have changed his mind? Would he have kept the coat on, push Lavi away, and keep on going on with his less-than-merry life? No, probably not.

However, whether or not he showed his first and foremost flaw to the other boy, whether or not he was prepared for whatever response, be it good or bad, the small child could have never been able to harden himself against the plain repugnance and disappointment that played on Lavi's face as he repelled from the mutilated red limb.

Neither of the two youths spoke and it seemed as though even the religious hushed prayers of the others in the church had quieted, leaving the young grey-eyed boy to listen to the elder's quicker-than-usual breathing. If he hadn't noticed before, it was beyond obvious now- Lavi was scared. Scared of him. The way the red head averted his eyes anywhere but at the owner of the limb, the way he had slightly but surely slid farther from him than before, and the way he hadn't said a single word after guessing his name, all led up to the by-now evident fact of his fear- his disgust.

The younger boy closed his eyes and steeled himself, urging himself not to get caught up in the moment, not to let his emotions and feelings of yet another rejection get to him. After all, why was this time so different? He had known from the start that this boy, Lavi, would leave him in the end; that he would either run in fear, or attack in hatred.

Finally, as though the long silence and tense atmosphere were threatening his very sanity, Lavi stood up, his single emerald eye still roaming everything else in the room aside from the brown haired, scrawny boy who was still feebly trying to cover his regret. As the taller child turned his back to him and had begun his exit out the tall, ornate doors of the church building, there was no possible way for him to have noticed the way that the younger street-living boy's eyes clenched shut in denial, nor how he clawed at the red arm before hastening to fling the cloth of a coat back onto it, hoping to conceal the major reason of his shame from any possible prying eyes. Any other day he'd be used to the usual disgusted reactions from the harsh bystanders around him, but for some reason or another today, after being left by that strange red head, he felt like he couldn't handle much of anything else.

The boy's mind was caught in somewhat of a turmoil. He still couldn't understand what he was feeling as he saw Lavi's back disappear into the white, snow covered world outside. It was all so confusing and new to him. His chest hurt and he felt like he wanted to cry. He really didn't understand what was happening. Never in all of his years living out on the street had he cried. Sure, life was unbearably hard sometimes, and people were always against something that didn't fit in the with the norm –his red arm, silver eyes, and pale, white skin didn't make him the most favorable of runts on the street-, but no matter what happened, he had never shed a tear, telling himself it would do no good to cry. It wouldn't solve anything. So why, when a strange, overly curious kid walks on by into his life and then leaves the next day, not a word spoken, why did he feel like he was so alone? It confused him, as well as made him mad.

The skinny brunette glared at the wooden bench he sat on, rather childishly taking his frustration out on the innocent pew. He gripped the edge of the bench and stood up abruptly, only to walk over to the very corner of the large room, not three feet away from him. Plopping down onto the cold wooden floor, he curled into a tight ball, his right arm wrapped around his thin legs as his left arm stayed firmly hidden against his body once more.

He didn't know what time it was –not that he could even read clocks anyway-, he didn't even know how much time had been spent once he'd woken up, but suspecting his regaining hunger, and possibly the cold getting to him as well, he buried his head into his knees and tightly clenched his silver eyes closed, letting the growing fatigue overwhelm him until blissful, dreamless sleep claimed him.

… … … … …

What was that? Something… Something hurt… Not an intolerable pain that would cause him to cry out, but just a short and quick peck here and there… Everything was black, which caused the young boy to soon realize that his eyes still remained closed from his rest. But, even if he had at first believed the short painful annoyances to be a part of a strange dream, the brunette was now aware that whatever it was, was still continuing. And whatever it was, it was getting harsher.

By now, brought past aggravation, the up-until-recently slumbering boy lazily blinked his eyes open into watchfulness, the dark, blurry shapes of the room finally coming into focus.

Ah, that would explain it. That would also explain the overlapping shouts that were incoherent through his resting mind. Standing before where he sat in the corner, about 4 or 5 children, their looks judging their age ranges somewhere from seven all the way to twelve, thirteen maybe, were throwing objects at him. He vaguely made out some of them; some threw pebbles and small rocks, others waved a thick book which he couldn't recall the name, while the rest just stood, throwing nothing, but yelling curses and insults at him.

"Demon!"

"Bastard child!"

"Get away from here, you freak!"

"Look at his arm! It's red! You really are a demon!"

"Go back to Hell!"

The insults flew past one person's mouth to the next before the small child could even register all of the meanings. His street-taught instincts reacted causing him to curl into a tighter ball, tuck his chin down to his chest, and protect his head with his right arm.

Count to ten. It'll be over soon. They'll get bored.

One.

A rock hit his knee and it bounced up to hit his cheek, a few drops of crimson blood spilling from the fresh wound.

Two.

The yelling got even louder as the curses got equally stronger; every word uttered pulled the boy further into full on submission.

Three.

Everything quieted while the flinging objects halted and the insults quieted.

Four.

The abused boy peeked one eye open and raised his head a few inches, freezing.

Five.

Two of the children closed in on him, grabbing his arms, dulling any possible struggles.

Six.

The other attackers closed in, grabbing the boy as well. They picked the struggling boy up and carried his berserk body towards the large door.

Seven.

Harshly thrown onto the icy, frozen ground, the scrawny boy attempted to regain his former position to curl back up, but two pairs of longer, stronger arms held him back once again.

… What came after Seven?

It didn't matter anymore. They were all closing in on him with hatred glinting in their eyes.

Petrified tears forced their way out from his silvery eyes as his face was punched to the side, the whole while the rest of the children shouted and screamed at him, blaming him of dirtying the world and how much the world would be better off without scum like him slithering on the streets. As the betraying tears rolled down his cheeks, one of the aggressors burst out in maddening laughter, one of his plump fingers almost resting on the beaten boy's face as he pointed at the remaining trails of water the salty tears left in its wake.

"Look! He's crying! What a wimp!"

The accused boy braced himself as he was hit once more, this time caught off guard, causing him to bight his tongue in the process, drawing the all-too-familiar metallic taste of blood in his mouth. Soon, the other attackers began laughing as well; glad to see that the dirtied youth was 'getting what he deserved'.

Soon, the rest had begun to join in the fun of attacking their weak and now submissive prey, kicking punching, and clawing at the boy on the ground. In the midst of this, loud footsteps were heard, seeming to echo throughout the mostly empty, snow-covered streets. Although the gang of youths heard it, the sound of a possible savior remained unheard to the rightfully shaken up boy at the center of the chaos.

"Hey!" a voice roared, seemingly furious.

"What are you doing to that poor kid?!" the voice continued on. The poor, beaten boy couldn't quite place a name on the voice, but it sounded indefinably familiar…

"We're just showing 'im his place! He's the Devil's child!" one of the taller children of the gang menacingly sneered.

The mysterious voice growled and gave a harsh push to one of the group's member, trying to get a clear look at the victim. The street rat heard a sharp intake of breath, and then a fierce roar.

"Red? RED! How dare you do this to Red?!"

Said boy tried opening his eyes but found that one eye was nearly swollen shut, thus finding no such luck. However, once his other eyelid had lifted, he gasped at the sight of the fire red hair and then curled into himself, almost ashamed to let Lavi see him in such a weak and defeated state. Lavi protectively stood over the fallen child, making brief eye contact with the slightly open eye. Grief pulled at his heart when he noticed the tear tracks that marred his innocent face. Unable to withhold the other's stare, the brunette bowed his head once again.

The fury that was resonating off of the eye patch wearing boy was practically visible as he took a single step closer to the eldest of the group that had attacked 'Red'.

"Hey, calm down, we were only taking care of this filth. It'll do us all good! Haven't you seen his arm?! It's cursed!"

By now, Lavi looked as though he could murder someone; he clenched his fists as he glared with all his might at the boy in front of him.

"Of course I've seen his arm! So what if it IS cursed! If it's a part of Red, then it's okay! Because Red is my FRIEND! How DARE you hurt him?!" Infuriated, Lavi launched himself at one of the eldest children, fists flying in the air as a yell and cry for uncle was unleashed along with each blow the group member received from the hysterical boy.

When the other children awoke from their stunned state, they rushed in to rescue their leader, pulling harshly at the shoulders of the taller, red headed boy. As they finally freed said captured friend, they fled, scared for their own safety if they had stayed behind any longer with the uncontrollably furious boy.

Still seething, Lavi ran a few steps, shouting threats in case they ever returned. What made him turn back however was the dull thump and soft crunch of snow behind him. Turning around, Lavi's blood went cold when he noticed the young boy's limp body laying beaten and bruised on the cold ground, his eye no longer open, and his breath no longer as frantic and rapid. Without another look behind him to see whether or not the group had come back, Lavi ran up to the limp body. In the chaos Lavi wasn't sure what to do. Could he do anything? It didn't even look like he was breathing! The thought causing him even further distress, the red head brought up the boy's right arm and checked for a pulse, sighing in momentary relief as he felt the dull thumping. It may not have been strong as it should have been to be considered healthy, but it was there at the very least. If he wanted any chance to get the boy better, he needed him out of the snow. Fast.

Lavi picked up the drowsy boy without much difficulty –was it healthy to weigh that little? - and began walking a few steps down the street, when a weak tug to his sleeve woke him up from his determined mindset to get the boy out of the cold. Lavi stopped walking and glanced down at the pitiful boy in his arms. One large silver eye looked up at him, fear and pain both evident in his features.

"Shh, it's okay Red, they're gone. You're safe," Lavi softly whispered to the frightened boy, instinctively tightening his grip on him, causing a quiet whimper to escape from the boy's bruised lips.

A saddened smile played on the red head's lips as he tried not to say too much, he knew that what he had done that morning was wrong, and he couldn't help but feel like all of this was indirectly his fault. The thought made him want to cringe at how horrible it sounded, but he knew it was probably true. If he had stayed with the young boy, he would've been able to protect him and keep him from having to go through this.

The carried child heard the elder sigh, and he feebly tugged on his sleeve once again, yearning to get his attention. Once more, he found himself staring into the older boy's green eye, trying to get across what he had wanted to say, but finding it difficult without being able to use words.

He wanted to thank him. Yes, earlier that day, he was undeniably frustrated and could almost assuredly say that he hated the redheaded boy for leaving him, but now, things we different once more. Right when he had believed there would be no hope, no chance of getting out of it without the worst of beatings again; Lavi had come like his very own guardian angel, and acted as such. As much as he was grateful for that, he was confused about what Lavi had said… About his arm… He said it was okay? Impossible. And he said they were friends! They hardly know each other! Plus… The young street-dweller had never had any friends… He was scared…

He wanted to speak. He wanted to speak to Lavi. But his body wouldn't listen to him; his voice seemed to have shut down and refused to be heard again.

Lavi continued on walking, having almost made his way to his destination, his and his grandfather's house –well, apartment, really. He planned to let the boy stay over for the night so that his grandfather could treat the multiple cuts, scraps, and bruises that were now becoming more and more visible all over his body. He could only hope that the elderly man would allow him to stay.

By now, the small brown haired boy had been continuously pulling on the elder's sleeve, yet again hoping to gain his attention, and getting frustrated because it wasn't working. When the redhead suddenly started climbing steps to what, the boy assumed to be, Lavi's house, he began frantically pulling on the shirt's arm even more, somewhat hurting his already bruised arm in the process. When the older boy finally looked down again, worry printed over his face at the soft whine of pain the other let out, the younger sighed. He quickly, moved up in Lavi's arms and placed a soft peck on the boy's cheek.

Lavi, of course, shocked by this action, had frozen completely, his face now painted with a dark shade of red, whereas the younger boy was completely confused at the other's reaction. Did he do something wrong? He always saw adults put their mouths together, and mothers usually put to theirs to their kid's cheeks. It had never made any sense to the young street rat why they would put their mouths on someone else, in fact, he always thought that it looked gross, but he had learned through the years of observing that it was usually done when grateful or when trying to express happiness. So why was Lavi so shocked? He was thankful and he just wanted to show him…

It was getting dark by now, the sun setting earlier now that it was the harsh winter time, and this caused the other to snap out of his dazed state, and peer down at the young injured child in his arm. His eyes went wide once more as he saw the skinny boy move his lips; but no words could be heard coming out. Even though the red head couldn't hear the words, he was nearly elated to see the young boy making an effort at speaking to him, even if it was a somewhat failed effort.

"What are you trying to say? I can't hear you…" He spoke once again, quietly, trying not to frighten the boy.

Again, not a sound could be heard, but this time, Lavi was positive he could recognize the single word that the tired youth had begun reciting like a mantra. If he wasn't incorrect, he was sure that the young boy was calling his name.


	4. Let Him Stay?

**Wow…. I did not expect that many review… 0^0 Hey guys! Um, I really was trying to get this out faster, but for almost a whole week now I've been incredibly sick, in fact, I'm still recovering… But! I've been getting so many nice reviews, that it's encouraged me to finish this chapter up. Thank you all! And look! it's a slightly longer chapter! **

"No, junior."

"But Gramps! He-"

"I said no."

"Would you just liste-"

"No."

"Just. Listen!"

Awoken from the boisterous shouting, the young injured boy blinked his eye, finding that his other was still relatively swollen shut. He also realized that he was still cradled in the elder redhead's arms, his right arm latched onto the fabric of the other's sleeve. He gazed up at the older boy's face which seemed to have determination etched into his features as he shouted at a short old man. Looking around further, the confused youth noticed that they were now inside of a large room with Lavi standing with him in his arms just inside the doorway.

"No! Junior, I will not stand to have this filthy child in my house!"

Hearing this, the young homeless boy growled threateningly.

"R-red! You're awake!" the red head stuttered, silently praying the younger hadn't heard his grandfather's more than degrading words, though by the agitated snarl, he predicted that the boy had overheard.

The young boy, Red, as some people had dubbed him, almost glared up at Lavi, if not for the memory of that same determined face protecting him from the harsh attacks and accusations from the other children. Instead of the usual cold and icy glare that he would give most, the scrawny child simply gazed up with his single usable eye, hoping the elder boy was able to see the questions swirling around in the silvery iris. He wasn't sure if it would work, in fact, most people that had ever even bothered to try and interpret his expressions -however few that number of people may be- had never been able to understand. Apparently, as harshly told to him by the few, his steel gray eyes held no emotion or meaning whatsoever, an unnerving void of any feeling.

However, against his haunting suspicions, Lavi instantly cast a wary grin down towards the younger boy still in his arms. "Ah, Red, this is Pan-er.. Bookman… He's my grandfather. And this is our house," a harsh glare from the elderly man across from them stopped the red head "uh, well, _his_ house, I mean."

He had answered his silent question… so, could that mean that Lavi was really able to understand him…? Or was it merely a lucky guess? Nevertheless, whatever the true reason behind it be, the boy was…no, not happy…just… surprised. Yes, surprised. He had no reason to be happy just because the strange redheaded boy was beginning to understand him… Wait, why did it matter? Why was he even thinking about this? The young boy was starting to get quite frustrated at the random, yet drawn out tangents his brain had recently started going off on. He had begun to think about things that he'd never even bothered with before and it disturbed him.

The young brunette could feel a concentrated stare burning into him and he soon realized that the oddly short elderly man seemed to have been studying him. The victim of the scrutinizing gaze glared harshly back at him, as if daring him to say anything. Whether or not this 'Bookman' had indeed headed his glared warning, the old man merely gave a stiff shake of his head and reverted his eyesight back to Lavi.

A loud and rather frustrated sounding groan resounded from the redhead and the younger child achingly looked up with an inquiring look in his single open grey eye.

"Fine, whatever Jiji, just let us inside."

Having said this, Lavi's grip on the younger boy tightened and strode past the obtruding man. After stopping at a rather bland looking sofa, the visibly frustrated redhead let out a pent up sigh and then gave a soft smile to the confused and tired looking boy that still gripped his sleeve. Lavi gently sat down as if to not jostle the injured boy any further and gently pushed the boy off of him so that he could lie down more comfortably. After a harsh one-eyed silver glare was delivered to the redhead the young boy twitched his right hand; his 'subtle' way of telling the elder boy to not completely leave him alone. Taking the hint, Lavi gave a somewhat forced smile and grabbed the younger boy's small and bruised hand, reassuring him. After taking notice of a few scrapes on the young boy's hands, Lavi was also vaguely aware of the dirt and blood from the many injuries that was slowly but surely dribbling onto the couch's fabric. Apparently he wasn't the only one that noticed.

"Junoir! Get that dirty thing off of my couch. I will not stand for this to messy our temporary residence!"

"Gee Gramps, ya know, I really would, if not for the fact that you won't even help me _treat_ the poor boy's wounds! And he's not a 'thing' either! He's a person, and his name is Red!"

"I do not care what the thing's 'name' is, but I will stall not stand to have it get in the way of your studies!"

"He won't! I just want to help him! Just let him stay for the night!"

They were yelling… The young boy didn't like it when people yelled… It always meant that something bad would happen… Withdrawing his small hand from the loud child next to him, the shaken boy cowered into the far corner of the couch, squinting close his other eye.

Bookman, being the quicker of his apprentice and himself, took a step closer and pointed towards the fearful bundle on far end of the sofa, a knowing look glinting in his sharp eyes. Following his grandfather's line of sight, Lavi finally noticed that the poor injured child sat in a tight ball, seeming to want to get far away from him. Lavi gingerly held out a hand to the boy.

"Red? Are you okay…?"

A tiny growl was heard and then a stiff shake of shaggy brown hair was the only response given to the elder child. By now, Lavi was only thankful that his grandfather had withheld from the argument so that he could deal with the issue at hand…whatever it was… Shifting slightly, the eye-patch wearing kid faced the frightened boy fully, yet the younger boy still had his eyes shut closed and his head down. Lavi then reached out with one of his hands towards the young boy, perhaps to sooth him in some way?

All the young boy could sense though was someone coming towards him. Normally he'd run or attack, but with his strength and will growing weaker by the minute, all he could manage to do was hold himself tighter, bracing for whatever may happen. He stayed still for a few more long seconds until he seemed to realize that nothing was coming. The young boy peeked open his eye, succeeding in only seeing the redhead that had saved him not a few hours ago, staring at him in what? Was it shock? Was it sympathy? What was it? The younger child didn't know, as he wasn't familiar with facial expressions nor the actions one would take when feeling those emotions. But for a reason still unknown to him, the redhead reached out towards him again- slower this time- and carefully rested his hand on the huddled form.

"Red… Are you okay? Really, tell me what's wrong... And look, even Jiji is quiet, he's probably worried too," he slightly lied at the end, but it couldn't hurt.

Just then, the child put his right hand over his ear and shook his head, trying to show his discomfort. Again though, the boy wasn't sure if the elder would understand. Actually whether the redhead did understand his motioning to him or not, the younger would most likely never find out exactly, because just then the elderly man strode up to Lavi and gave a visibly irritated huff.

"Junior, you absolute moron, the dirty thing is obviously terrified of your earsplitting rant." The elderly's voice was never raised, but somehow it still seemed as though he were yelling or scolding his clueless apprentice.

Looking back once again at the figure that had painfully scurried into the corner of the couch, it had suddenly clicked in his thick head that his grandfather was more than likely correct. God only knew what the poor child had gone through, and he would bet his eye-patch that after all the times people were screaming curses at the boy, he had probably grown to fear raised voices. Now that he thought on it, it seemed obvious –especially after the group of children's violent act earlier that day.

"Red… I'm sorry, I won't shout anymore, I promise. We won't hurt you, please trust me."

A moment of consideration passed, and really the only thing that had cause the younger to trust the redhead was the fact that he had saved him earlier. Seeming to finally take to the elder child's words as truth, the younger boy slowly uncoiled himself only to harshly draw his limbs back with a hiss of pain. His eyes were now both tightly clenched shut as he bit his lower lip as though to keep in an agonizing cry of pain. Lavi was confused as to what was going on as his mind was still in a sort of daze after his argument with his grandfather, so the thought of Red's wounds hadn't quite occurred to him. Luckily, Bookman's eyes hadn't missed the waves of distress that were resonating from the young boy and despite his hatred for dirty or filthy, 'lowlife creatures', he slowly headed towards the edge of the couch were the child resided.

With a knowledge full glance the elderly man leaned down close to inspect the younger boy. He capably rand his fingertips along the whimpering child's arm and stomach, paying attention to the young boy's reactions as he checked for bruises or broken bones. Lavi could only watch as the boy sat there flinching and glaring through one eye at the old man that had insulted him earlier. Feeling helpless the redhead sat down on the same couch as the young boy that was being inspected and lightly grabbed the younger boy's normal-looking hand once again.

Although in pain, the young brown-haired boy looked up at Lavi with shock written in his bruised features. Why was he holding his hand again? He had figured that Lavi had only held his hand the first time out of mere pity... But, to do this twice... This boy kept being so nice to him and he simply could not understand what his true intentions were. However selfish it may have been, he silently prayed that the redhead wouldn't leave his side. It was strange and completely foreign to have someone- well, not quite talk to- but to merely spend otherwise-wasted time with. He was such a naïve child.

During the boy's self-spiting session, a sharp jab to his ribs made him double over in pain. Lavi was quick to react as he pulled the younger boy closer to him, consequently dragging him away from the only-known source of pain; Bookman.

"What are you doing to him, geezer?!" Red cowered as the elder boy raised his voice for the second time since the beating he received earlier that day.

"I have done nothing. The child has been injured, on top of this, it would seem that it has also broken a rib," Bookman replied, ever the calm one.

Lavi slightly calmed himself having heard this, and moved his head to check on how Red was faring. He was surprised to say the least when he saw that the boy was now seemingly petrified with what he could only perceive to be fear laced with obscuring pain. Lavi made a cautious move to comfort the frightened child but before he could even try, his grandfather had all but shoved the redhead away as he proceeded to half carry, half drag the injured boy into the adjourned room down the hall. Lavi chased after the injured boy and his grandfather but yet again, he had been cut off.

The short elder suddenly stopped in the door way and slightly turned his head to the side. "Since you won't stop your bothersome shouting unless I do so, I see no other choice than to treat the pathetic child's injuries. Do not disturb me until I am finished." Bookman then walked into the room and shut the door behind him, leaving the redhead alone in the front room worrying about the poor homeless child. He could only hope that his grandfather would be gentle with the boy.

Staring blankly at the wall across from him, the redhead's usual hyper aura having been dissipated as worry corrupt his mind for the unknown expanse of time he waited for that bedroom door to open. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, it could have been a few minutes or it could have been a few hours. Finally though, light flooded the now-dark room Lavi had settled in as the door opened to reveal a straight-faced Bookman, the young orphan nowhere in sight. The silence remained as Lavi stood up and walked over to his grandfather, not many words passed between them.

When the young redhead entered the room he sighed, a twinge of guilt pulling at his heart as he stared at the young brunette who was in fast asleep on Lavi's bed, bandages covering the multiple bruises, cuts, and scratches that marred his dirt-caked body. Walking close towards the resting boy, the eye-patch wearing child sat at the foot of his bed, being careful not to accidentally sit on the injured boy's feet.

"The boy fell asleep as I was dressing his wounds because of the pain relievers I had given him." Lavi made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat to show he was listening.

"He has a cracked rib, multiple cuts and scrapes with a fair amount of internal bleeding. His right arm also seems to have a minor fracture; however it is should not take much time to heal if he is careful. Also, the child suffers from extreme malnourishment."

Both fell quiet as the list of injuries sank into the young boy's mind. Even with as worried as he was, the young redhead found himself curious… Red's left arm… His grandfather had said nothing on the matter. Surely he would have noticed after treating him. "Jiji… His arm… did you notice anything… odd?" Lavi vaguely suggested, carefully choosing his words. After a short moment of deliberation, the elderly man gave an annoyed sigh. "As I previously stated; his right arm has a fracture. Paying attention is the most important area of our job, Junior, you would do well to practice this." Bookman knew… It was terribly obvious he did. However, for some reason or another, he wasn't mentioning the deformity that tainted the orphan's frail arm. It didn't make much of any sense to Lavi, but he shook it off and noted to mention it again later, hoping to get a more in depth answer if he was patient.

The boy on the bed began to toss restlessly in his sleep, unintelligible moans of discomfort breaking the uneasy silence that had descended. Lavi could only watch sadly as he could only imagine the horrific situation of sticking this injured child out into the blizzard in his condition. Surely someone would come take advantage of his withdrawn state and if not that then the snow would get him. Lavi looked up at Bookman with stubborn determination burning in his one vibrant green eye. "He's staying the night, Bookman."

Another diminutive pause followed this when the elderly man finally gave a curt nod of his head and then walked out of Lavi's room, motioning only once for the boy to follow him out. Once back into the main front room Lavi had previously waited in, Bookman stopped and faced Lavi, the expression on his face unreadable. "Lavi, is that the boy you were with yesterday?"

When the redhead didn't respond, the old man continued, patience dwindling. "The dirty child from the church, that's him, am I correct?" This time Lavi nodded his head, fearing only that Bookman would be angered if he continued his short act of silent defiance. "This… thing wouldn't happen to be the same reason you skipped your studies last night and left, would it?" Irritation thoroughly laced the elderly man's voice as he skeptically eyed the pensive young redhead before him.

"It would be…"

"I see." Bookman remained silent as he looked to be considering something. "As this boy seems to be a distraction from your studies, once he is well, he is not to be interacted with, do you understand?"

Lavi's eye widened and his mouth was left agape, the demand leaving him angered. He moved his mouth to voice his protest, but the short and elderly man had already turned and started walking towards his office of sorts, leaving the boy's complaint hanging in the air, being heard by no one. He supposed it was fair, after all, Bookman was only taking care of him so that he could take over his position someday, and that meant he would have to study nearly every waking minute of every day until that happened. But… He still didn't want Red to have to leave so soon though…

… … … … …

Was waking up in warmth something he was supposed to be getting used to? Because this was the second time in a row he has awoken only to experience encasing warmth that comforted his sore and usually cold body. Aside from the warmth, pain pulled at his senses, refusing to go by without being noticed. Confused and disoriented, the young brunette slowly started remembering the events of what-he-guessed to be the previous day. Lost as he was, the young boy warily opened both of his silver eyes, being mindful of the eye that he remembered to have been swollen shut earlier, noticing that now the swelling had gone down a great deal, enough to allow him to open it fully. Looking about his surroundings now, the boy took time to examine the room he occupied as he was unable to focus on anything -much less the room's interior-through the near blinding pain that had settled over him the previous night.

The room was rather small; it held the single bed he laid in, an old wooden bedside table to his right, and a window with deep auburn curtains that had been drawn closed to his left. A single white chair had been set up underneath the window, however the chair was not what had caught the boy's attention, no, it was the redheaded child that had sitting in the chair. A redhead child that he immediately recognized as Lavi. This time, as opposed to the last time he woke up to see the redheaded boy, Lavi was awake and staring at him.

"Red! You're awake! How are you? You're alright, right? Are you wounds still painful? Gramps treated them! He even let you stay the night! I was really worried though since you've been sleeping for so long! Do you know what time it is? I'll tell you! It's after two O'clock! Oh but you can't write so well, does that mean you can't count either? Well, two is late in case you didn't know! You really slept in, pal! I was really worried, I could hardly even sleep –well that and you took my bed-! And…and…oh… Right."

The injured boy stared at the once again blabbering redhead through half-lidded eyes, the effects of sleep still pulling at his eyelids. Pain still stubbornly hung onto him, but for whatever reason it seemed to have dulled down, though the very existence of the lingering pain was enough to bother his already sleep-fogged brain. After battling to think straight through the aching wounds, his brain had finally caught up with all the words the redhead had spewed and everything sank in. First of all… that mean old man… treated his injuries? But, why? And wait… This bed, this was _Lavi's _bed! For an unknown reason, this made him feel almost awkward, though the feeling was gone quicker than it came as he remembered that there was no reason to harbor such needless emotions such as embarrassment and the like. During his quiet mental feuding he had a creeping suspicion that he must have been looking at the redhead strangely because suddenly the taller boy grew quiet as his rant drew to an awkward and mumbled finish.

"Red? What's wrong?" Lavi, ever the observant one questioned the younger boy whose face now seemed to now be masked by the same look of indifference he wore when he first saw the boy two days ago in the church. Now, Lavi understood the boy was homeless, he understood he was an orphan, and he also understood he was injured, but quite frankly he was getting thoroughly peeved by the boy's moody behavior.

"Red! Come on… I thought we might've finally been getting somewhere! Don't you dare think about going back into your little emotionless demeanor again! Please, I'd like to be your friend. Please, Red?" Somewhere in the middle of his little frustrated outburst Lavi had begun to speak softer, minding the boy's apparent fear of raised voices.

The brunette stared blankly at the redhead still, although no matter how blank his bandage-covered face may have been, his mind was spinning with confusion. This kid… Claiming to want friendship again… This was the second time… Honestly, he couldn't stand the strange and foreign feelings that were surfaced when he was around Lavi. He had known the strange redhead for nearly two days now, and in that short span of time he'd felt more –dare he say- happiness than he'd ever known was possible for someone like himself. But it was different and it was new and it was out of his comfort zone. That was a big flashing warning sign in his book. But… he found himself curious about the whole 'friendship' thing. He wasn't wanting to be the redhead's friend or anything, that was ridiculous! No, he just wanted to know why… Why Lavi was acting nice… And just how long would it take for Lavi to leave?

The effort of sitting up and listening to Lavi while thinking so much had apparently worn him out as the child began to settle back into the faded orange blankets that he was now nestled in. Squirming around a little to find a comfortable position in the bed, the brunette grimaced as the sheets brushed over his scratches and bruises, the feeling unpleasant to his sensitive skin. Live also noticed this and stood up with a worried smile on his face.

"I'm sorry, do your injuries hurt? I think the medicine must've worn off by now… I'll got get Panda Jiji so he can give you some more!" The elder child left the room in a blur of red as the injured boy stayed in his cocoon of blankets. Yes, he probably shouldn't be here, in a near stranger's house, sleeping in his bed, but it was a change to sleep in a real bed. This was the first time he's ever slept in a real bed. With all the warmth and comfort it provided, there would never be a single reason that could get him out of that bed at that moment. In fact, if it weren't for the insistent throb of pain, the boy was confident that he would have already fallen asleep. The air stilled as the young brunette allowed the silence to lull him into a light slumber, his breath evening out.

Not too long after though, did the resting boy hear clumsy footsteps that had immediately woke him from his light sleep as the bedroom's wooden door slammed open, its old hinges screeching in protest. Without even needing to open his eyes, Red was already positive that the intruder was Lavi, as there was no way the old man would be the one running around the house. He heard the footsteps approach him as they suddenly stopped and he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, shaking him softly.

"Red… Red. Get up, you've gotta drink this medicine. Gramps gave it to me and said to give it to you," Lavi spoke softly, smiling when his single shining green eye was met with two sleep glazed silver ones. Lavi gave a light chuckle "Ya know, you really do look adorable when you wake up," the elder boy ruffled the other's messy brown hair, laughing at the scowl that was now firmly placed on the younger's features. Before the brunette could complain, Lavi had placed a hand on the smaller boy's back, ignoring the slight flinch from the sudden touch, and carefully maneuvered the child so that he was not sitting up, his back resting lightly on the headboard of the bed. Lavi then held out the cup he had been carrying, the liquid inside making a foul sloshing noise.

The look on the young orphan's face made the redhead laugh slightly and scratch the back of his head sheepishly. "Hey, I know it looks, sounds, and smells really nasty, but it's to help the pain go away. Just drink it, you'll feel better soon, I promise!" Lavi gave a thumbs up towards the young and now very confused boy.

Had he been more awake at the moment, Red would never had drank some strange liquid given to him by strangers, however, he wasn't more awake, and this was Lavi... Ever since Lavi had rescued him he felt safer around him... Almost like he could trust him... Therefore he took the rancid liquid from Lavi and stuck the small cup to his parched lips, the thick substance rolling into his mouth, leaving a bitter taste behind. The boy made a disgusted face as he swallowed the medicine with difficulty.

The effect of the medicine wasn't instantaneous, but after nearly five minutes of sitting quietly in pain, the boy started feeling his eyelids droop, he whole body felt heavy as he allowed himself to slink back down into the inviting warmth of the bed. Lavi looked over at the boy who had finally started to fall asleep and he allowed a smile to reign his lips. "It does make you sleepy, but don't worry, Gramps won't kick you out when you're asleep or anything, I'll make sure to take care of you while you're sleeping! I guess you can think of this as compensation for yesterday! I owe you, buddy! And don't you worry, I'll be right here when you wake up!"

The young brunette boy found his vision getting darker and darker until finally he fell completely into the grasps of deep slumber, Lavi's words echoing in his mind. 'I'll be right here when you wake up'… Perhaps he would start looking forward to his time spent with this strange boy?


End file.
